Alyssa Trivett writes

I'm A Lady With A Spinning Head

My wrist knots untied, 

circus tumbled me down  

escalator levels of rocks 

and my once-broken tailbone  

phantom limb aches again. 

My head clatters, do I have one left? 

Cowbells chime. I'm headed in the 

opposite direction of up. 

There are no stars train-wrecking my mirage eyes. 

Only ears ringing. Like smoke alarms. 

I tallied cobwebs on my bloodied hands and 

envisioned this poet's spinning head 

weaving words in sand.

 

Spinning Around the Head -- Murciglass